I'm Sorry
by Obi the Kid
Summary: A traffic jam leads Sam and Dean into a bit of bickering and solidifies their post-Apocalyptic relationship as brothers. Story takes place in the second half of Season 6, at some point after "And Then There Were None."


Title: I'm Sorry

Author: Obi the Kid

Rating: PG

Summary: A traffic jam leads Sam and Dean into a bit of bickering as it solidifies their post-Apocalyptic relationship as brothers. Story takes place in the second half of Season 6, at some after "And Then There Were None."

**The idea for this story started because of the countless times during the show's history that one of the brothers says "I'm sorry" and the other always replies with "For what?" Sometimes I have strange ideas for stories.**

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"Come on! Six lane highway and we're moving three miles an hour. This is exactly why we take back roads. Sure, it takes longer from point A to point B, but you don't have to sit in this crap with these idiots who, God knows who taught them to drive, and creep along like friggin' drunken snails."

As Dean rambled on about the rush hour jam they were stuck in, from the passenger side of the 1967 Chevy Impala, an amused voice chuckled in that direction. Sam had given up his slapdash attempt at sleep courtesy of Dean's steady bemoaning about traffic. He smiled drolly at his brother and figured to help ease the problem by accepting part of the blame.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"What? For what?"

"That headache I had last night, keeping us from moving out sooner. I know that you wanted to be on the road before this morning."

"Come on people!" Dean bellowed as he lay on the horn. "Where the hell did you learn how to merge? Is it really that difficult to drive in a straight line? Damn it!"

"Maybe we should pull off at the next exit. The back roads might be clear by now."

"Sam, we had a monsoon last night. Actual waterfalls from the sky. You heard the news. There are flooded areas all over those smaller roads. No way am I forcing that on my car."

"Then we can just go sit in a parking lot or something."

"And do what? Talk about feelings and crap?"

Sam raised an eyebrow and flinched slightly. They'd had an hour long 'talk' the previous evening – during the monsoon – about…issues. Though the conversation ended up being a mostly one sided lecture with Dean telling Sam to stop dwelling on what he may or may have not done during his year with Samuel. Dean had been long winded on the subject, but Sam understood his brother's concerns and agreed, at least for the moment, to behave. Now, however, Dean throwing their talk about leaving the past alone back in Sam's face because he was irritated with traffic…was a bit much.

The older Winchester glanced at the younger when his last comment was treated with silence. He let another two minutes pass before he said anything.

"Okay fine, I'm sorry. All right?"

Looking out the window and not at his brother, Sam replied with a slightly confused, "For what?"

"You know damn well for what. What I was just screaming about. I didn't mean it. You know how I am in traffic. It's why we try so hard to avoid it."

"The left lane's moving better. Can you get over?"

"And so it is. I'll just move right over there..."

Dean and the full-bodied Impala bullied their way across three lanes to the furthest left. Once there they found a brief period of near speed-limit movement before another slow down - an abrupt slam-on-the-brakes slowdown. Both of Dean's feet smashed down onto the brake pedal and the Impala skidded to a stop.

"Son of a…seriously people? You slammed on your brakes so you could watch someone on the _other_ side of the highway get pulled over? Idiots!" A hand bashed into the steering wheel several times before Dean finally found the ability to take a deep breath. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry."

A perplexed Sam turned his head and asked, "For what?"

"Not you!"

"There's no one else here, Dean."

"The car, man, the car!"

"You're apologizing to your car?"

"I just smacked the crap outta her."

"And?"

"She's my baby. I can't start beating on her."

"Dean, it's a car."

"Shut up, Sam! You know how I feel about my car."

"You need some time off."

"Yeah, unfortunately, our job doesn't allow for vacation days. Monsters don't take leave, so hunters don't either. It's tough to save the world when you're in Hawaii lounging in the sun."

"We saved the world a year and half ago."

"Yeah well, tell your story to that Mother-of-All chick that's hounding our asses."

The jam ended and traffic returned to normal highway speed.

"Dean, you really think she's in Nevada?"

"There are some heavy signs in the southeast corner of the state. Could be her. Only one way to find out. How's the headache anyway?"

"Better. Still there, but better. Last night was tough."

"Yeah well, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I gave you a hard time about a little headache, but I know it had to be bad to put you down like that."

"I'll live."

"You'd better."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll kick your ass."

"Nice, Dean."

"Well, what'd you expect?"

Sam shook his head and turned his gaze back to his window.

Dean took another deep aggravated breath. "Jeez, all right. I'm sorry. Again."

"For what this time?"

"Sam, do you not pay any attention to any of our conversations?"

"Is that what they're called?"

"What else would you call them?"

"Moronic snippets of words."

"Oh, I'm a moron now?"

"I didn't say that, Dean."

"You called me a moronic snippet, Sam."

"I called…never mind. Just drive. And stop someplace soon. I'm starving."

Dean gripped tight to the Impala's steering wheel, huffing and puffing as he mumbled to himself under his breath, until finally, "How exactly would you like our conversations to go, Sam? I mean, we're brothers. We spend about every friggin' moment of our lives together. We have a right to fight and have moronic snippet type talks once in a while."

"Take the next exit, Dean. You've passed three food signs already."

"Answer my question first."

Sam's eyes rolled. "Fine, since you can't figure this out on your own, I'd just like to have a conversation that doesn't end in one of us getting ticked at the other for something stupid. I'd like us to talk…just to talk."

"So, something along the lines of, so, how was your day?"

"Well, yeah."

"Sam, I know how your friggin' day was! I was in it! Why would I ask you that? That's a moronic snippet, right?"

A heavy sigh rumbled through Sam's body. He truly loved his brother more than life, but at times, Dean was possibly the hardest headed person on the planet. So to counter the exasperation, when Sam finally spoke again, he made sure his voice stayed calm, concentrated and steady.

"Dean, I'd just like to talk without the battles. I've only been me again for a few months now and before then the last thing I remember was diving into the pit of Hell. I may not remember

it – yet – but I'm pretty damn sure there wasn't a lot of quality, friendly conversation down there. And of course after that was the time I spent with Samuel and company. Oh yeah, I'm sure that was just _filled _with joyful conversations of glee. And before all that, you and I spent almost two years on a love/hate roller coaster. We've not had the best of recent years, Dean. I'm only asking for some quiet stress-free conversation about nothing in particular. It's not a lot to ask of my brother, is it?"

The Impala grumbled to a rough stop a few minutes later. The parking lot of the restaurant was crowded. The waiting line extended outside.

Dean nodded towards the entrance. "Go put our name in."

"What?" The stunned expression on Sam's face threatened to stick. Dean - wanting to wait in line to get a table at an actual restaurant? Sam couldn't recall that happening, ever. Usually they'd drive by the place, take a whiff out the window and then hit a nearby fast food joint instead. Waiting for food wasn't high on Dean's list of enjoyable events.

"Sam, close your mouth. It's not that shocking. We'll just wait."

"We'll just wait? What the hell, Dean?"

"Damn it, Sam, knock it off and go, before the wait gets longer." With a shove, Dean pushed his younger brother from the car.

Upon his return, Sam tossed a square-shaped plastic buzzer through the window of the car. "It's a pager. We'll get buzzed when our table's ready. Hostess said about an hour or so. You sure you want to wait? There's a chain of fast food joints I saw up the road. Nice greasy, calorie-laden food. Just what you love best."

"Who says I love that crap?"

"You eat it all the time."

"Only because I don't like waiting an hour for something better."

"So then why wait now?"

It was Dean's turn to take a deep settling breath. One that he let settle for a good thirty seconds before responding. His brain was registering Sam's words about these last few years of theirs. Sam had been dead-pan serious about it, and watching the sincerity in his brother's face as he said it, well, it was opening Dean's eyes to something he'd not really given much thought to.

"Honestly?" Dean started as he fiddled with the pager in his hands, "What you said a few minutes ago, about Hell and about us during that whole Ruby/demon blood/apocalypse fiasco, you were right. We've been pretty messed up in recent years and taking it out on each other whenever that was an option, which was well…most of the time really. Funny how easily we fell right back into the same pattern now that you're back and you're you again. Maybe it's an addiction…or maybe it's just me being a big brother."

Sam shrugged and waited for his big brother to continue.

Dean finally turned his head to face the other. "I'm sorry, Sam. Seriously. We're gonna fight. It's just how we are and how our life is. 24/7 of me and you. But we really should be able to take a step back once in a while and just talk for the sake of talking. Especially now after all the crap we've been through and…well, you know. And if I talk anymore about this, we're getting into serious chick-flick territory and you know I don't go there. So, let's move on."

"So, we'll wait then?"

"Yes. We'll wait for our table and we'll talk about whatever. Just me and my little brother and good old fashioned conversation."

"Okay, great."

"So, what do normal brothers talk about anyway?"

"Well, wives and kids, family and friend things going on."

"All right, I think I can manage that. Okay, so we recently off'd our previously dead and then back-from-the-dead, backstabbing, evil, creepy grandfather. Can't say that didn't come to an electric conclusion, huh? On the friend side of things, our closest friend on the planet was recently possessed by a freakish pudding-filled herpe-worm that threatened us with yet another tale about the end of the world. We must be popular for that type of thing. Hey, got a plan to end the world, don't forget to call the Winchesters! Ah, but we did manage to save that particular friend by shocking him to death. Ironic, ain't it? Our closest angel buddy seems to

be quickly losing track of what's going on down here in the real world. One of our so-called cousins was found to be a demon – but this was after he adopted a baby shape-shifter. You probably don't remember that part, Sam. The other cousin? Oh well, I killed her out of the goodness and insanity of my own wormed-out mind. And wives and kids? Well, let's just not go there. That cover all the family/friend stuff?"

Sam made a frowned face and nodded sideways. "Yup, that hits all the highlights."

"Good. And how's things going with you lately, Sam?"

"Oh, same ole same ole. Lived with the devil, got tortured, escaped the devil, did some bad things, hung out with my back-from-the-dead, backstabbing, evil, creepy grandfather, found my soul and now just waiting around patiently for the wall in my head to fall, which may or may not cause me to go completely and totally insane."

"Hey, it's just another day in the life of a Winchester, right Sammy?"

"Yeah," Sam said just as he suddenly found the beginnings of an unexpected laugh coming on. It couldn't be stopped and seconds later, he was tossing his head back, grinning broadly and laughing hysterically.

Laughter being contagious as it was, Dean was trying hard not to follow suit and made the effort to be serious. "Dude, what the hell you laughing at? All that crap, that's not funny at all."

"No, it's not," Sam managed between chuckling breaths. "But it is. When you say it out loud, it's so unrealistically and preposterously impossible that it's chaotically funny."

Lips pursed and bottom lip bit, Dean struggled to stay the straight man on this. Then blood drew on his lip. He was done. And with the effort failed, he joined his brother in hysterics. Sam was right. The things that had happened to them, the things they'd been through, were all just ludicrous by normal standards. They'd already known that of course, but hearing it out loud? Yeah, preposterously impossible was about right.

So their hysterics continued and by the time they'd finally managed to top the laughing and the wiping of the tears from their eyes, the pager was buzzing at them.

"Oh, man. Okay, okay," Sam managed between giggles, "I think our table's ready, Dean. Come on."

The Impala was secured as the pair headed to the restaurant and towards an actual honest to goodness non-micro waved meal.

Dean smacked his bother on the back. "Felt good, didn't it, Sammy? Man, we haven't laughed like that in years."

"And all we needed to trigger it was us! Evidently the absolute absurdity of our daily lives is the key to keeping our sense of humor. The irony kills me on that one."

"Irony is the only thing that _hasn't_ killed us yet. Don't encourage it."

More laughter followed - laughter they managed to contain - to a degree - before entering the restaurant and being directed to a table.

"Hey, Sam, I really am sorry."

"For what, Dean?"

"For whatever I've screwed up in the past. I know, I know. It's a crap load of things, but a blanket apology for everything."

"I've probably screwed up more things than you, including myself, but I think we're finally okay, Dean. I do. So, how about enough of the _I'm sorry_ crap, huh? Let's sit and splurge on a real meal tonight. Steak, lobster - all the good stuff we never enjoy. And in the process maybe we'll find a little opportunity to talk…just to talk."

"No moronic snippets?"

"No. No moronic snippets, Dean."

"Sounds good to me, little brother." They sat at their table. Dean held up his fork. "Just so long as _eating_ comes first."

* * *

The end.


End file.
